


who let the dogs in?

by starblessed



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Home Invasion, M/M, accidental pet acquisition, based on a tik tok, literally it was great
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:47:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24201553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starblessed/pseuds/starblessed
Summary: “And he heard me shouting and I guess it inspired him or something, cause he full-oncharged at me,Joe, and before I could even slam the door, he was just —“ George cuts off with an incoherent noise, gesturing grandly to their front door. “In! And then he was running, and sniffing everything, and exploring our shit, and he peed —““Not on my damn couch,” Joe growls.“No, on the nice carpet. Marking his territory, y’know? Except it’s our territory, but I guess it’s his now, because he won’t freakin’ leave —“-----Anyways, Joe Toye is a dog lover.
Relationships: George Luz/Joseph Toye
Comments: 1
Kudos: 29





	who let the dogs in?

**Author's Note:**

> ... okay, look, so there was this [amazing tik-tok](https://youtu.be/p1TfFJoSd-Y?t=223) and its chaotic energy absolutely screams george luz
> 
> Of course, the characters in this fic are based off of their fictional portrayals from the miniseries Band of Brothers, and I mean no disrespect to the real-life veterans!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [renelemaires](http://renelemaires.tumblr.com/)!

By the time Joe gets home from work, he is tired, a little achy, and not at all thrilled to find Luz on their porch. Not even to greet him, which might have been a little welcome. Nope. Instead, Luz is perched on the porch rail like a squirrel, balancing awkwardly as he peers through the living room window.

“The fuck,” Joe greets, and heads for the door.

Luz topples over to intercept him. A grown man shouldn’t be placing all his faith --- and weight --- on a flimsy iron fence, so the fact that nothing ends up broken is a miracle. An even bigger miracle is how Luz lands on his feet --- he’s got nine lives, like a damn cat --- and hits the ground running, blocking Joe’s way before he can open the front door.

“You know what, Joe, I really can’t recommend that at the moment.”

Shoving him out of the way would be the easiest option… too easy. Joe holds back. Instead, he drops his gym bag, crossing his arms and fixing Luz with a glare that could curdle milk. “Okay. And why the fuck is that?”

“Welp…” Luz is  _ bouncing _ . Actually bouncing, in the way he only does when he’s nervous about something. Like there’re hot coals under the heels of his shoes, and holding still for too long will burn right through the rubber. It makes it harder to glare at him, ‘cause he’s just moving too much. Joe narrows his eyes to compensate, lowering his gaze without lowering his head. This never fails to make George even more uncomfortable.

“First thing,” he declares, chuckling like he’s just thought of something hilarious. “Okay, the first thing you gotta understand is… I didn’t think he’d actually do it.”

“Who’d do what?”

“That’s the thing, Joe, it’s not like — you wouldn’t believe me if I told you —“

“Luz,” Joe hisses, and reaches for the door again. 

Luz reacts like he’s just been tased. Hands flying up, he moves bodily to block Joe’s movement, pushing against his chest until he has to take a step back. “Okay, okay, okay! Look, there was this dog.”

It’s not like Joe isn’t a dog lover. Exactly the opposite — he  _ adores _ dogs. He’s got an absolutely healthy appreciation for the best creatures god ever created; if canines were made to be man’s best friend, the same has to apply in reverse, and Joe takes this job seriously. On his free weekends, he volunteers at the animal shelter to help train the more aggressive dogs there. He’s not intimidated by them, and sometimes all the need is some good rehabilitation, and a little kindness, to find their true natures again. Most of the dogs love him back. Sure, he doesn’t have one to call his very own — because he’s a little worried a Pitbull would take one look at his boyfriend and think  _ chew toy _ — but Joe Toye loves dogs.

What he doesn’t love? A dog in his house.

A strange, collarless, unknown dog, who somehow made himself at home in  _ their _ home… because when Luz spotted him wandering around the neighborhood, he was dumb enough to open the door.

“And he heard me shouting and I guess it  _ inspired _ him or something, cause he full-on charged at me, Joe, and before I could even slam the door, he was just —“ George cuts off with an incoherent noise, gesturing grandly to their front door. “In! And then he was running, and sniffing everything, and exploring our shit, and he  _ peed _ —“

“Not on my damn couch,” Joe growls.

“No, on the nice carpet. Marking his territory, y’know? Except it’s  _ our _ territory, but I guess it’s his now, because he  _ won’t freakin’ leave  _ —“

“For fuck’s sake.” Joe presses the heels of both hands to his head, digging in hard enough that his temples start to pound. Tension strings through his body like an iron cord, and when he takes a step back, the cord goes taut. Not like it’s ready to snap — not there, not yet — but seriously considering it.

“Are you telling me,” he says slowly, “there’s a strange dog running ‘round our house because you  _ invited _ him in?”

“I didn’t invite him!” George yelps.

“You serenaded him from across the street, Luz! You literally told me you sang at him!”

“ _ Sang _ is a very strong word! Besides, it was “Who Let The Dogs Out”, not who let them  _ in! _ ”

With a hiss, Joe breezes past his boyfriend, leaning over the porch rail to peer in the window. Their living room is completely dark. The only light coming in is through the window on one side of the room and the glass doors at the far end of the house, shining from the kitchen. For a long minute, he can’t make out anything at all… then there’s a shadow, a sound, and all of a sudden something huge sprints across the room and leaps onto the couch.

“For fuck’s sake!” It’s definitely a dog. It’s definitely huge. It’s definitely making itself at home. “He’s eating — he’s eating my pillow, Luz! My goddamn pillow!”

“The good pillow?”

“The one you always try to steal — son of a bitch!”

Joe smacks his hand against the glass several times, hard enough to rattle the pane. At once, the dog goes still. He lifts his head to look up at the figures into the window, pillow still clasped in his foaming maw… and observes calmly as Joe makes a series of increasingly animated gestures at him. Eventually, the dog decides this show just isn’t entertaining enough. With a violent shake of his head, he returns to decimating his new pillow friend.

Joe takes a step back, cursing to the sky. “He’s gonna destroy our house,” he declares, before jabbing a finger at Luz. “Whose fault is that?”

“Uhh, pretty clearly the dog’s!”

Joe stares at him for a long moment. Luz stares back, stolidly indignant. In retrospect, Joe’s mistake was underestimating the sheer staying power of Luz’s stubbornness.

“I cannot fucking believe,” he declares, and pushes Luz out of the way.

Over the yelps of protest behind him, Joe strides to the door. It opens with resistance — the dog’s scrunched up their hallway carpet, so it basically acts as a doorstopper, but Joe powers through. The house is pitch black, so the first thing Joe does is turn on the lights.

It’s… not a disaster. Not as bad as he anticipated, anyway. A few pillows are torn up on the middle of the living room floor, all the doors have been pushed open, and there’s a bathroom towel halfway down the hall, in shreds. One of George’s sneakers is in the middle of the living room — serves him right for always leaving them wherever he wants — but it doesn’t look too chewed up.

In the middle of it all sits the dog — a fierce brown and white beast, with a torn up ear and a speckled nose.  _ Pitbull, _ Joe decides after a moment,  _ maybe a few years old. Big for his breed. A mutt? Has probably been on the streets for a while. Looks like a scrappy fella. _

He takes a step into the living room, and the dog’s ears go back. It doesn’t growl, but a flash of yellowed teeth makes his intentions clear. Its body language couldn’t be more blunt. Joe raises his hands, taking each movement slow as molasses, and lowers himself to the carpeted floor. There, he turns away — not so the dog’s out of his sight, but so that his sight isn’t trained directly on the dog. As he busies himself with untying his shoes, his movements careful and languid, Joe’s eats remain sharp for any sound from their new friend.

After a few minutes, he hears the leather of their sofa shift as the dog bounds off of it. Still, he doesn’t look up. A minute later, a wet nose is pressing into his elbow. Joe goes still, forcing his muscles to relax nonetheless. As the dog moves around him, sniffing intently, he regards it with mild interest.

“Heya, buddy,” he says softly, after its third circle around him. “You recognize that smell? This is my house.” The dog lets out a huff, showering Joe’s bicep with spray. “Some house guest you are, huh? Real polite.”

The dog goes still, and finally Joe feels confident enough to turn. The dog is waiting patiently, dark eyes studying him. When Joe reaches out, it immediately sets to sniffing his hand; after a few seconds, Joe scratches the side of its face, and the dog’s tongue lolls out in pleasure.

“You’re not so bad, are you? That’sa boy.” After taking a quick moment to check — “Yeah, definitely a boy. No collar. You got a family, bud?”

“Joe?” Luz’s voice rings out from the front doorway. “Please tell me you’re not dead.”

“I’m a ghost come back to haunt your ass.” Even as the dog tenses, Joe keeps his tone even, not disrupting the comforting rhythm of scratches they’ve established. “Get in here now. Slow, huh? Take it slow, Georgie.”

To his credit, Luz does — though maybe he’s just scared for his own life. When he rounds the corner to find Joe lounging comfortably beside the dog, his entire body goes slack with disbelief.

“I can’t freakin’ believe it,” he mutters. “You made a friend.”

“He’s good company.” Joe shrugs. The dog gives his hand a grateful lick. “You wanna come closer?”

“Yeah, nice try,” George chuckles drily. “Soon as my will to live heads off to war, I’ll let you know. You wanna get that thing out of our house now?”

Joe’s mouth shuts, smirk sliding from his face. At his side, the dog slumps down, head landing on his paws. As his dark gaze turns up to Joe, a hint of hopefulness is plain; he rolls onto his side, and Joe slowly strokes his soft stomach.

After a long moment passes without a word, George clearly gets the message. “Wh— no!  _ No _ , Joe, Jesus Christ, we’re not keeping that thing!”

“You’re the one who found him,” Joe shrugs.

“That’s not what I mean —“

At Luz’s raised voice, the dog goes tense again… but Joe hushes him, and he seems to naturally relax, confident that this human — maybe the first human whose ever taken the time to pet him, and doesn’t  _ that _ twist Joe’s stomach in knots — has it handled. Joe continues to murmur to him in a soft voice, declaring their new houseguest a very good boy, as Luz watches on in dismay.

“Did we seriously,” his boyfriend says, “just adopt a dog?”

“Depends,” Joe shrugs, not pausing as he scratches his new friend’s ears. “How much you wanna bet he’ll bail out if you sing at him again?”

Luz tries. It doesn’t work.

Later that night, with their arms full of destroyed pillow cotton and a newly well-fed dog asleep on their couch, Joe can’t hide the smile on his face… and when he catches Luz’s eye, a flicker of pleasure is clear on his own. Maybe it wasn’t what Luz had planned when he opened the door to a stray, but neither of them can really resent the way things turned out.


End file.
